


Between Mixed Drinks and Card Tricks

by perfectpro



Series: The Magician's Assistant [1]
Category: Now You See Me (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he sees her is at a bar, spinning bottles. And maybe it's the light or the beers he's been downing, but she seems a little magical in and of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Mixed Drinks and Card Tricks

It happens like this.

It’s a dive bar, some hole in the wall establishment that plays shitty music but serves excellent drinks, courtesy of the freshly hired bartender that’s spinning bottles a few feet away. Daniel always goes there after shows, after ditching fans and assistants, because he likes to come alone. Leaving is usually a different story. He likes to lean against the wall and survey the scene, a deck of cards flinging its way from one hand to the next. It stopped being a nervous habit and became merely a habit years ago. 

He’s twenty one and cockier than his mediocre fan base merits, but anyone can admit that he’s a good magician, knows even what he doesn’t know. The problem is that his overconfident personality comes out onstage as nervousness (which is ridiculous, because the last time he was nervous was when he was sixteen and dropped the key to his assistant’s handcuffs). Before leaving his most recent show, the employer had a suggestion for him, giving Daniel a smile as he said, “Kid, the tricks are great. But, no offense, your personality gets a little overbearing. Find someone to help balance it out.” 

Daniel had nodded intently and then set off scowling, a running stream of commentary under his breath about where that man could place his suggestions. He’s arrogant, but he’s not stupid; he knows not to insult the person who signs the paycheck. Still, the remark is plaguing his mind and preventing him from joining in the bar scene and picking up someone. He doesn’t use “someone” because he’s trying to be evasive; he uses “someone” because it doesn’t matter, any of them will do, gender aside. Give him a willing mouth and a pair of spreadable legs, and he’s happy.

As he mulls over the comment, the bartender taps him on the shoulder. “Want another beer?” she asks, and he turns to find a gorgeous redhead smiling somewhat impatiently at him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, accepting the bottle from her hands. Unbidden, his attention jumps to where she is now mixing drinks. The bottles are spinning around in the air, dropping perfectly measured amounts of their contents into glasses as the redhead keeps everything moving, glasses skidding down the bar to land in front of the intended drinker.

It strikes him that she’s drawing attention to the bottles, while the drinks are being served as though by magic. A grin spreads across his face as he waits for there to be a break in the crowd, a moment where she doesn’t have to serve a dozen customers at once. While he waits, he allows himself to admire her skillset. The crowd loves her, cheers for every bottle flip and toss of an olive into a martini glass. Loves their drinks even more, but that’s just a side point. The point is that this girl is who he needs, who will balance him out to the audiences. Attractive and not ashamed of wearing skimpy clothing and a little bit magical in her own right. In the back of his mind, he wonders whether she’s good at escape acts. She would be a great assistant, better than Rebecca, who stands their frozen except when called upon throughout the entire act. Given serious training, she might even be able to work as a dual act. Too bad his ego isn’t ready to let someone else in on that much of the limelight.

After a while, the crowd leaves with drinks in hand, and Daniel takes advantage of that to talk to her for a moment.

She sees him coming and pulls out another beer, smiling at him as she pops the cap off the bottle and into the garbage. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. The bar can get busy.”

He nods before cutting to the point, “How old are you?”

The glass she had been holding in her hand clatters to the marble of the bar top and miraculously doesn’t break. “Yes, I’m legal. No, I won’t sleep with you. If you try anything funny, the bouncer is a good friend of mine and can bench press three of you,” she tells him scathingly, picking the glass up off its side and righting it. She turns away quickly after pushing the beer his way, but stiffens when she hears his voice again.

“No, that wasn’t what I was asking,” he said quickly, realizing how it must have come across to her. “I don’t want to sleep with you. Not that you’re unattractive, on the contrary you’re really hot and probably bendy (both of which are total turn ons), but I don’t need a good lay right now. I’m a magician, and what I need is an assistant. And not just someone to look pretty. You would need to be somewhat of a part of the act, and I would have to teach you a few tricks, but you would make a great assistant. Even a great magician,” he says finally, wondering why he admitted the last part. And it’s not because it’s not true, but because he normally doesn’t complement people upon just meeting them. He blames it on the beers and how her hair looks in the light.

She’s looking intently at him, mixing a drink for the person next to him as she does so, and he delightedly notices that her attention can be both on the audience and on the illusion at the same time. “That’s the weirdest pickup line I have ever heard,” she finally decides, passing his fellow patron the gin and tonic as she comes to the conclusion. “If you’re a magician, prove it. You’ve got a deck of cards; show me some tricks.”

About to open his mouth to once again explain that sleeping with her hasn’t been the primary goal of this conversation at all, Daniel realizes that she’s waiting for him to do something with the cards. He obliges, not because he needs to prove anything to her but because he likes to show off, and slides them onto the bar. From there, he shuffles them quickly, fanning them in intricate patterns. With a flourish, he presents her with the deck fanned out in his hand. “Pick a card,” he tells her, watching her eyes move across the cards warily.

“Any card?” she asks him, good humor behind the old joke.

“Any card.”

Her hand slips onto what he knows is the seven of clubs and pulls it from the arrangement. She stares at it in concentration for a moment before placing it in a new spot between the three of diamonds and the ten of clubs. 

He gives her a grateful smile for playing along and moves the cards between his hands quickly, flipping them through fingers and onto three different decks until he pulls all of them and then smiles at her, all of the cards facing down.

“You’re not going to give me a card?” she asks him, subtle disbelief painting her features. “God, you are just a creep. Magician’s assistant, my ass,” she curses, turning away from him to make a gin and tonic for a college girl on the other end of the bar.

And even though he’s fairly sure she’ll think of him as a creep even if he does complete the card trick, Daniel can’t help himself and says, “Check the napkin under my beer.”

Her raised eyebrow and pursed lips let him know that it’s not for him that she’s doing this for, it’s for the paying customer he’s playing the role of. Nevertheless, she moves his beer aside and breaks into a small smile when she sees the seven of clubs peering up at her. “My name is Henley,” she tells him, pulling out a pen and scribbling something on the back of the card.

“J. Daniel Atlas, and could you please not do that? My other pack of cards got shredded the other day and I haven’t found time to replace them. No, seriously, I would appreciate it if you stopped writing; people can recognize cards with distinctive marks. It messes up the entire illusion,” he says, finding his voice getting louder and more insistent upon every word. Henley doesn’t look phased, just slides it across the bar to him and gives him something of a smile.

She puts a fresh napkin under his beer as she studies his features. “I’m glad you’ll be able to recognize it. That means you won’t have an excuse for not calling me. I get off in thirty minutes, if you want to talk to me about the job.”

Taking the initiative, he goes off to explain the basic duties of an assistant. He’ll have to remember to fire Rebecca before he gets home tonight; he doesn’t want clashes between them, and he can already tell that Henley will be better than Rebecca ever was. He details trap doors, mirror boxes, and everything else he can think of that she might need to know. “You’ll need to meet me tomorrow so we can actually go through those. My next performance is in three days, and I’d like for you to be prepared for that show,” he instructs, about to outline their practice schedule when Henley smiles at him, shaking her head slowly.

“You’re a total control freak, aren’t you?” she asks, listening intently as she serves drinks down the bar. “I can’t believe you’re willing to hire an assistant. Doesn’t that kind of mess up your whole ‘my way or the highway’ thing that you’ve got going on?” She didn’t ask out of spite or malice, just with a genuine interest. “Do people call you J or Daniel?”

“Daniel, normally. The J was added on for stage presence; apparently it looks better than just Daniel. And I can work well with people if they’re able to follow instructions. You do know how to follow instructions, correct? Also, would you say that you learn at an accelerated rate? I don’t want you to mess up in front of an audience. I’ve built a reputation on this job, and I don’t want it damaged by hiring some girl who turns out to be just a pretty face.” He says everything quickly, squinting slightly as he evaluates her. 

Henley quirks a smile at him hesitantly. Her eyes run down him quickly, and she takes a moment to consider his proposition. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy bartending, but on her third day when she’s already being bored by the job she can understand that it won’t get much better. “I know a few card tricks from my grandfather, just little things. And I got a 1500 on my SAT, how accelerated of a learner do you think I am?” It’s not that she likes proving him wrong, but wiping the calculating look off of his face is worthwhile when her answers take him by surprise. She extends her arm over the bar with a grin. “Well, when do we start practice?”

“Tomorrow, eleven o’clock at...” He grabs a napkin and jots down an address, giving her some general directions and landmarks to watch for. “It’s the theatre I preform for every weekend. Come in the back door, I’ll make sure they know to expect you.” After saying this, he sees her hand and grasps it with his own. “I’m glad you’ll be joining me.”


End file.
